


all of the short wonders of orchid

by orchidax



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Home, Its people who love each other describing love as home, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Original Character(s), Other, Poetry, Sad, Short & Sweet, Soulmates, Suicide Notes, alot of them mention drowning, its poems written late at night, its sweet & short stories of whatever wonders i find and cherish ok bye <3, some of these are very happy others break ur heart uhm, tagging is hard man
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-16 01:41:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 3,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29693109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orchidax/pseuds/orchidax
Summary: hi! I'm orchid and these are short poems, stories of characters you don't know yet, but will.It can be about anything, it changes as time goes, much like I.I've already gathered that since this is mostly original work not a lot will find it, but to those who do, here's a small snippet;---as the sun set upon them,the sky smiled kindly,and the moons cold winds stilled for them.it was their world to live, breathe and rule.they had found each other and against all odds,the universe was in their favor.the world held them gentlyand the waves rocked them to sleep.hand in hand,neck by neck,forever was nothing more,and everything, was you.
Kudos: 1





	1. Heist & Omar

**Author's Note:**

> Because words would always be harder;

the snow fell calmly on the city of woven gold and silver.  
the air misty and cold, and there he sat.  
in the midst of all that was pain and beauty,  
a small one, not much bigger than you and I,  
one that held peace and war in each hand,  
one that knew all if not nothing,  
he sat unbothered by the wind,  
unbothered by everything that was.

a boy.

a wild one with scars,  
scars that never healed to the extent of being invisible.  
they were always pale and stretched over his back, arms and hands.  
a mask to cover his face,  
hair that always stood messy and dark.

the world was grateful for him.  
he held everything, just like his father had before him  
some days he was gone,  
no one knew where he went,

Omar, the boy who kept peace between the worlds,  
Omar, the one who never had a home,

but between the chaos and war,  
between everything and nothing,  
he had a crush.  
a girl with hair the colors of the wind and the sea,  
always black and brown oil-stained cheeks,  
her sun-tanned freckled features that scared any rich woman who knew only pale and prim.  
she was wild, even wilder than him.  
she was smart and quick and witty and improper, and he loved it,  
brought her with him to every adventure,  
fought every day and every night by her side,  
made sure she was safe,

she was home as much as the town,  
she was summer and warmth and hope,  
she was everything he missed,  
and that was okay for her

born orphaned,  
she fell in love with machines,  
tools and the smell of gasoline,  
everything a girl had to stay away from,  
and she hated it, having to stay away every second of it,

and then, on a brick wall in the winter snow,  
a boy with a mask helped her grow.  
and from then on as secrets do,  
they spread their wings  
they flew the sky,  
they built, created, and destroyed,  
for they held the world in their hands,

and that was home.


	2. golden kid fiasco (poem)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> fuck expectations.

golden kid fiasco turned lectures into crying into believing I was not good enough for whatever life threw at me

and weak followed suit

whatever words I did not know, I learnt

whatever trait I was not born with I learnt

every subject

every matter

hide what you do not know,

flaunt what you do.

see, golden kid fiasco was more heartbreak than any relationship ever.

it was disappointed looks from parents I didn't really know, scurred faces of professionals wondering why, and how.

it was fragile, protected by my own fucked up sanity,

it was not doing my homework, finishing it late into the night because that's when the house wasn't terrifying.

it was teenage years bittersweet, no more golden kid fiasco,

see I left that shit in a box the day I turned 14,

see I broke that shit in two, the day my shoulders were bare of anxiety.

see golden kid fiasco did not turn me great.

see golden kid fiasco broke bones I didn't know i had

disappointed my parents in ways I did not know possible.

golden kid fiasco was a dream undone, by the fear of succeeding.

golden kid fiasco, was me drowning and dying.

golden kid fiasco was me now stupid.

god, I am so glad, to now be stupid.


	3. if you see this im sorry (poem)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a suicide note that never left the world;

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> before I start this here's a formal tw.  
> this chapter contains mentions of suicide, it mentions drowning and it does not have a happy ending.  
> but I am alive, I am okay,  
> this was but a 3 am thought.

if you see this I'm sorry;

sometimes breathing is harder than showering

I've always wanted to drown

water has always been nice

it warms me sitting on scolding tiles

drowning has always been easy

drowning under pressure,

to stay, or do

write, essays & poems alike

fingertips cold at the touch warm under the burning water

I sit stripped to the bone

my joints need oil

they creak at unwanted movement

I've always been told I cry too much

I tell people its because I didn't cry as I kid

how do I explain I really just bottled it all up until I break

that "glass eyes" is just a synonym for "fragile"

or how I feel alone

I have friends sure, but I don't wake up to a blaring phone

but a judging screen yelling "no new notifications"

birds judge my choice of white noise

barren thighs

barren thoughts

I wanted to kill myself and someone whispered goodbye

my back is pale and bumpy

missing wings I describe it as

wanting to be held, closer to the truth

I feel naked even in my winter jacket,

stripped free of held

stripped free of love

i haven't been able to love in a while

stuck hitting my chest breathing spiked

I miss summer

I miss dating

I miss not being afraid

I miss not feeling like shit

i miss showering


	4. burn out (poem)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i want to be a worm

I'm drifting off, 

my head so clouded my tears just as.

the air tight it burns

I wash down the painkillers with apple juice,

I am too young to find grey hairs

burnt out, my skin is soiled

my room a mess, 

no space in my head to clean it all up,

I'm so tired.

it burns to the core,

blow it out, I'll be scorched,

let it burn, I'll disappear,

I am too young to feel this hurt,

I am too young to bleed this bad,

my duckling wings are already gone

you plucked the feathers as they grew,

I am no longer golden

I am no longer skin and bones

I am your cup half empty

I am you sweet half full

I wash down my whiskey with vodka

I wash down my tears, with fear

I paint over the eyebags

try not to be consumed by the stress

I am drifting off

and all I wish to be

is the soil you stand on


	5. love is stored in the hazelnut (one shot)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two young teens trying their best, and finding home in whatever they can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bug and bee are characters very close to my heart. more stuff of them will be posted <3

The red brick wall shimmered slightly in the dim summer night. Waves hit the wall only to glide down calmly. Atop sat someone dressed in ragged pants, and a dirty white shirt. Bee.

Bee sighed, her hand grazing the rough texture. The sun was setting, and the air misty. Taverns around the nearby town were slowly lighting up, smiling at the townsfolk who were finally settling in. She sighed, leaning back, letting the blood rush to her head, and her hair run in the wind. It had never been this short. Would Bug like it? Bug likes everything, so of course, she would, right? She had it cut for her birthday; she was finally turning a little older.

She sighed again, opening her eyes. Her head hurt a bit. Huh. Her guitar was leaning against the wall, opposite of the water, brown and shiny, used and loved in such a way the music always sounded magical, it sounded like home.

That’s what Bug told her anyways. She didn’t always get, how music was or created. It was a wonderful gift she had.

Looking out across the water, the sun shining off the deep. The waves drifted, in and out, hitting the brick wall with ease, almost slipping each time. Maybe this was fate, looking forever into the water. Waiting for something to happen, but always knowing nothing ever would. Sometimes the waves would not hit.

Sometimes it would miss, and she would laugh. Nothing stayed the same, everything would always change with each breath you took. Maybe fate was love, love, and care for the world and those around you.

What was fate? She found herself asking that stupid question again and again. Was fate trust? Trust you put into love? It always ended up with love. Somehow or another. But what _was_ love? Bee couldn’t know. No book would ever tell her what love was. To some people, it was a thing to throw around, maybe to others it was pages carved on wood, stone, or maybe even clay.

Fate, fate. Words with meaning, sometimes completely without. It was all depending on the person.

Her thoughts were stopped very abruptly, as she heard stones hitting water. Pit, pat, pit-pat. They would hit the water two or three times, before sinking to the bottom, never to be thrown like that again.

Bee looked at the person throwing the stones, A friend. Long soft hair, freckles on the arms, and a big grin spread across her face. She wore a dress, it wasn’t her usual one, this one was long and white, and a satchel, leather and homemade. Bee had made her that.

“Bug?” Bee grinned, what was she doing here? The familiar face turned, her grin growing wider. She ran over, and there were a few seconds of pure stillness. Only the waves could be heard. Hitting, and letting go.

Bug was quick, and it didn’t take her long to catch up, leaning up against the wall, smiling ear to ear, already talking, loud and clear. Her voice was rough, used, loved. And much like Bee’s guitar, it sounded magical, and like home.

Bee didn’t really listen, she just smiled and nodded to focused on the girl. Her hair swaying in the wind, her red frosted cheeks, cold from the summer wind. Maybe fate _was_ love. Maybe fate was Bug. That sounded okay, that fate was Bug. Bug was home, and that was okay.

For a second Bug stopped her eyes full of wonder, her smile dropped. She wondered, looked, then smiled again.

“You got a haircut.” She whispered, climbing atop the wall, and sitting next to Bee, facing her.

“It looks nice. I like it.”

“Thank you…”

Bugs hand reached out, letting her hand run through the short hair. Soft, wonderful, home. She smiled silently. This was okay, this felt like fate. Bee was happy.

Then she asked, “Bug, what do you think fate is?”

Bug stopped, and straightened her back, as if in thought.

“well… I guess fate is hope, and hope is love, Y’know? There’s no one way to fate, fate is what you make it.”

Bee nodded, maybe that was true,

“well… then what is love?”

She looked over the sea, endless, infinite, deep dark. So full of secrets and hope. Maybe that was love. The unknown? But that didn’t make sense. Love, love, love, love, love. It ran through her head, wondering again and again. Love was home. Bee was home.

“…Maybe love is us?”

Her legs swung back and forth over the edge, matching the rhythm of the waves, that were growing wilder and louder as the sunset. It was getting darker. The night was falling,

Bee didn’t answer but nodded in response.

“I got you something.” Bug said, opening the satchel, and rummaging around, “you know, for your birthday.” It took a while, the sun was almost set now, and a purple light shone throughout the beach. The tavern lights were dimmed and yellow, shooting out from the town. It was beautiful and magical.

Bug pulled out a necklace, the chain was leather, rough, and sewn together. From the chain hung a pendant, but shaped like a nut, a hazelnut. It was pretty.

She smiled and gestured for Bee to move closer. The necklace fit perfectly, and hung loosely from Bee’s neck, swinging back and forth in the wind.

A sudden bang sounded from one of the local taverns.

“BUG, WHERE IN THE _HEAVENS_ ARE YOU, YOU PROBLEM CHILD?”

Bugs back stiffened, and she looked lost for a second, before sighing. “well, guess I’m going home.” She grinned slightly, letting go of the rough wall, and jumping down.

“Don’t forget to open the necklace, okay? See you around, wasp.”

She then proceeded to run off, her feet leaving marks in the sand, that quickly washed away from shore by the now wild waves, and the air stopped being magical and pretty and turned dull. The purple light shimmered a goodbye, as the sun finally set.

Open it? Bee looked down at the necklace with wonder. A hazelnut. The prettiest one she’d ever seen. It was carved of wood, with small idents, and patterns. She slowly popped it open, and the little nut was suddenly ten times more special.

Pictures, drawn ones, cameras were expensive, but these were drawn, by hand, and there it was. A picture of Bug and Bee.

The picture looked like home.

Maybe she didn’t know what home, love, or fate was.

But to her, it was stored in a hazelnut.


	6. happy-sad (poem)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quarantine brought out the best and worst in us, let us down, and held us up.  
> and sometimes, the quiet brought more joy than the hours alone.  
> and that was okay.

sun shone on my legs, 

burning awkward tan marks up and down my thighs, 

as old music played on the radio none of my friends knew I owned.

even stuck at home everything felt okay, happy-sad, and bittersweet.

I was okay being alone

I didn’t prey on the curtains for letting in unwanted light, 

or at the alarm clock for waking me up, 

or even the birds for chirping a little too loudly.

I looked at all the private photos no-person would ever see and grinned.

a real true smile. 

I called up my friends and asked how they were, 

I wrote letters for those who weren’t with me now. 

wrote them platonic love songs, 

of midsummer nights and loud concert music. 

I sat down by my guitar that I hadn’t played in years and strummed it without crying

and I was okay

and shit was okay.

and it was great.


	7. the day we win (poem)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> winning the war, but not being afraid to lose it.

swords shimmer, loose grips cold.  
looking upon the water, gold blood seeps from our fingertips  
maybe we are running on a baseless thought,  
maybe we are running from the guilt of places past;

we look at each other, prepare for the next step.  
we look at the sun, as if tonight may be the last of us.  
we look out, knowing this very well may be, 

the end

we laugh through the fear, we smile through the pain,  
raise our glasses, hold it out to catch tears like rain,  
and bow down to the last night of our short lives


	8. so much bigger, so much smaller (poem)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kiss the goddamn butterfly bitch

big things can wait,

enjoy the light breeze,

enjoy the sun waking up in the morning,

admire the dedication of the moon, enjoy the rain,

laugh at literally anything,

smile. right now, just force a smile,

it does more good than you will ever realize

and realize that scary things are only scary if you make them

and that you are loved to the point of forgiveness.


	9. petals & thorns (poem)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i wrote this for a friend,  
> thank u mei for inspiring me to be greater

why are we so terribly afraid of reaching out-   
our hands so cold,   
I promise ill be there for you,   
into the lonely nights, we have claimed as our own

i promise that the bruises are just scars,   
and not some everlasting memory I kept inside these thorns  
and if we don't bleed out   
can we just lay here in the garden,  
and hope that nothing goes wrong?

ill bring you anything you want,  
ill give you all the pieces of my heart that I have carried for so long.   
and ill keep you safe as we venture through the petals and the thorns.


	10. open backed (poem)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> woah so angsty teen woah woah calm down there buddy might cut myself on that edge

I am stuck between your many thoughts  
feared I stand tall,  
weak I feel

I want to feel the wind under my fingertips  
glide atop the biggest trees  
so alive

please catch me if I fall  
when I fall

I finally feel the wind by my ears  
busy streets  
closed eyes

open backed wings grow  
I don't hit the ground  
I don't catch myself  
I die  
I die wings scorched burning  
I die dripping gold

just as how I wanted to


	11. fearing (poem)

I'm like a colorful song, painted on black paper

dulled by shadows that hang on my shoulders  
dulled by wiped memories that sit far back lost in my head

I wonder a lot  
wonder of the butterflies,   
colorful like I, how they get to brush so freely against the open sky,

how I am stuck to the paper that tears, stuck to silver webbing holding me down  
I'm scared if I try to let go ill drown

it sticks to me like glue  
holds me down   
holds no clue  
of terrors that leak when I am afraid to tear,  
of the fear I face when I feel so bare, of colors that i never got to pick  
born I paper I never choose it was never a choice,  
don't call it a choice   
my colors fade when you call it a choice,

dulled by the fear of rejection I let it go.  
I never choose to be me,   
don't yell at me for statistics 

for I am like colors on grey.  
smeared, breathing— still wet from the rain

i lay down, let myself become soil  
no fear of tearing when I'm a thousand pieces too far,  
the colors paint my heart so vividly

i let myself breathe  
I never choose to be me,  
I never choose,   
so why do I fear being me?


	12. gods (poem)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> because normal will never be enough

we stand on the shoulders of giants.  
we stand, looking at thousands of stars and feel so small

we sit in the hands of gods  
ride the backs of fairytales,  
drink water from ponds of wisdom  
our backs so bare  
our feet so cold

we stand atop mountains and rivers  
drip our hands in gold  
sew our clothes from leather  
we feel so much, for such tiny beings

i think the gods and giants would laugh  
if they knew just how fragile we could be  
and yet we hold out our hands  
let the rain touch our skin  
let the wind run over all the places we’ve never touched

we look so small, next to these giant things  
though I don't yet think we’ve realized


	13. i am afraid of mirrors (poem)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i want to be so much more

I tried to write down what I saw when I looked in my reflection,  
but all I came up with was bones crows and a want to reach out,  
I saw colors and gold,  
silver blood and broken fur,  
I saw a person with purple-grey eyes,   
I saw a fool.

I felt tangled hair and yellow teeth  
I saw wet fingers  
I saw skinned meat  
I saw someone I didn’t want to be  
I may be proud of my body,  
but I am far from happy with it,  
I may be okay with my shield,  
but god arrows hurt

and I bleed like any other,  
yes I scream like the rest  
my fingernails dig into my skin  
I want to rest

I want to fall  
fall with my hands stretched wide  
my eyes closed  
I want to fall so quick,  
my wings will spread, be alive  
I want to live to the fullest,   
each day a bigger breath

but I am all but skin and bones  
yes I bleed, I bleed out like the rest  
and god thorns hurt, but for now, I don't feel like crawling in bed  
right now I don't feel like crying and hurt  
I feel so alive like I never have before  
my wings so wide  
my feet so hurt

maybe being in pain can be beautiful


End file.
